


Scars and Ink

by Midknite



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10128242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midknite/pseuds/Midknite
Summary: Bakura always comes back for another tattoo from Marik. [Multi chapter Thiefshipping AU]





	1. The idea

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pabakura for beta reading this. I was sick at home and couldn't help to write some thiefshipping. More chapters will be added in the future. Hope you guys like it.

Bakura tapped his foot impatiently on the clear floor of the tattoo parlor.

“Listen Ishizu, I don’t care how good everyone else is with the needle, no one will touch this marble skin if it isn’t Marik.” _Well, that didn’t sound appropriate_ , Bakura thought and corrected his sentence,“He is the most petulant asshole I’ve ever met but he can ink”.

Ishizu didn’t had this kind of issue with another client before, usually a look at her perfect body clad on the white dress was enough to tame the toughest of men and a sweet and polite word could calm the wildest of women, not Bakura though, and it wasn’t because he was obviously into guys for the way he ate her brother with his eyes sometimes, it was because he was just insufferable.

“You’re not the sweetest candy in the bag either” Marik opened the door where he was working, he heard the unmistakable yelling of the white haired and had to remove his gloves and leave his current client sitting in the chair, she wasn’t doing so well after a long session on her ribs after all, a rest could give her some time to breathe and question her choices on the tattoo placement and life.

Bakura spun on his heels grinning satisfied “There you are, I was reminding your sister here, that you are the only one with a steady hand in ten thousand miles around” Marik lifted his pierced eyebrow “Even though I’m a narcissist, spurting flattering words will not get you anywhere, Bakura ,my brother or sister are perfectly capable of making another hideous ghost tattoo on you.” the paler one strode closer and tapped Marik’s jacket with an accusative finger “You can’t do this to me, Marik, we are playing at the arena on Saturday and I want a scary demon to compliment the Ouija board you made on my back, and it will look smoother if the very same artist does it! Not only that remember how much money I’ve spent for your magic touch.” Marik rolled his eyes, he was so done with this particular client, his punkstar attitude allowed him to wreck his hotel rooms but Marik would be damned if he let the bastard crash his impeccable parlor in a fit of diva rage “Ishizu, what appointments I have for this week could be rearranged?”

“I can’t believe you, are you going to let him change your appointments of the whole week?”

Marik pressed the bridge of his nose “Sister…”

“Fine!” Ishizu scanned the booking document quickly “I think I can easily do this Anzu Masaki’s hummingbird, those two traditionals could go to Rishid, probably we could convince this guy who wants to get a strange dice on trash polka to wait for the next week, since he wasn’t in a hurry. The eyelids tattoo is still all yours, I’m scared to mess up that one”

“See Marik? Your steadiness is glorious.” Bakura smirked triumphant to the girl and Ishizu couldn’t help but frown.

“I have to keep going with the client I have, you’ll have to wait if you want me to design your stupid demon.” Bakura lifted his hands in feigned defeat “Alright, whatever pleases you.” Marik just rolled his eyes, no amount of money could make worthy to bear this man for more than 20 minutes, he wondered if more than loving Marik’s tattoos he came back to the same parlor cause no one else could stand the guitar player.

Bakura sat in the waiting lobby, examining the frames with the intricate tattoos and elaborated illustrations; he could tell exactly which ones were made by the blond with the rad purple eyes and smirked. He’d always get what he wanted, he knew that riling up Marik was the right way to get his attention, and it was something Bakura never asked for, he demanded it, it didn’t matter how annoyed Marik got, he would tease him and then give him all the compliments in the world, cause he _knew_ that the blond _knew_ he was a great artist and clients would swoon over his work, but Bakura never would hide his fixation over his ink, while other clients leave with shy smiles and hopeless blushes, he pushed the artist’s boundaries and he gave him a challenge, the white haired had a crazier idea each time he came back for more.

Bakura dragged a finger on the crystal of one of his ghost designs displayed on a frame on the wall, it wasn’t only he was infatuated with the guy, oh no, that wasn’t even rare, his alluring Elizabeth Tayloresque eyes, his straight and narrow nose and his perfect sculpted lips had a lot of people head over hills, but Bakura knew there were fangs under that beautiful façade, he had seen him fight once, Marik demolished a guy’s jaw with his fist, eyes flaming and teeth bared, Marik had a danger under his skin that could almost be tasted, being near him was like feeling the sharp blade of a knife close, not even touching but making your skin prickle.

“Hey _marble skin_ , come this way.”

Bakura scowled at the mocking tone and scoffed “Bet you’re dying to mark it, cheeky ass.” the musician followed the other, passing near Rishid’s station, his work was impressive, but his lines weren’t as fine and his color palette too bright for his liking.

Marik took some sheets beneath the glowing table, ready to sketch.

“Don’t be so sure.”

“I want you to make the most vicious demon your imagination can create, don’t give me some of that catalog shit, I want something worthy of _Inked Magazine._ ”

“How a second rate guitar player can afford all this?” Marik smirked.

Bakura snarled “We do tour in all the country, you are aware of that, right?’

“That doesn’t make you better player though.” Marik threw some lines on the paper.

“Fucking criminy! You will never let go that missed note!”

“Don’t yell Bakura, I’m right here.” he made the structure of the demon and started adding eyes.

The musician scratched his ear feeling affronted, he wasn’t as much a perfectionist but the fact he didn’t got the praise he gave to the other was beyond him, the digging of his nails didn’t allow him to know which one of the eight earrings was the culprit of such irritation. He felt a cold liquid sprayed on his ear.

“HEY! What the fuck Marik?!”

 “Calm down, it was a controlled spray of MAdaCide, that will disinfect that, if you wouldn’t have made it yourself it wouldn’t itch.”

“I didn’t made it myself, it was the stupid bassist when I was drunk.”

“My sister could had made it just like the rest of your piercings.”

“Why yes, thank you for the advice, I will call you when I get drunk next time.”

“Please don’t, I don’t want to hear your bad pickup lines again.”

Bakura was about to yell to the top of his lungs but the other talked first “I’m going to make the wings wide and spread to your shoulders, let me see your back to remember how the Ouija was positioned”

The white haired grumbled taking off his shirt and offering Marik the view of his previous work

“A demon sound simple enough for you.”

“Yeah... But I want it to have a huge dragon penis.”

Silence

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m dead serious.” Bakura chuckled.

Marik burst out in laughter, an uncommon occurrence “That’s actually an outrageous thing, so much your style, we could go with that one.”

“You have to find the way it doesn’t look dumb.”

“ _How_?!” Marik was still chortling.

Bakura smirked “You’re the genius”, the other’s eyebrows just went higher.

“This is gonna take time.”

Bbakura turned over to meet Marik’s gaze “You have only 3 days to tattoo, 4 sessions of 6 hours if my calculations are correct.”

“You know my times too well to my liking.” Marik complained looking at the sketch and tossing more lines on it. This was going to be a long session.

 


	2. Sketch

Marik added some detail on the demon’s horns looking at the references on the laptop that rested on the table, screen turn from Bakura’s curious gaze. The blond pursed his lips while working, he kept the face a black shadow with faint features, commenting he could make it look like glowing inside, like that Balrog of the Lord of the Rings, Bakura’s brows furrowed in a painful looking expression, a small twitch on the Egyptian’s cheek showed he wasn’t amused in the least, all references passed over the guitarist’s head all the time, Marik had to spend 10 valuable minutes explaining it just to get dull questions, bored expressions and ironic comments about his nerdiness level, the tattoo artist considered just drowning the guy at the bathroom toilet and be done with this.

The Egyptian worked on another sketch trying different positions, he stared at the drawing and tilted his head, he backed up for a moment and came back, Bakura just followed him with his eyes, smile widening in a devious amusement.

The artist looked up scoffing at the other’s delight “You have a warped sense of humor”

The white haired just shrugged “I’m _loving_ watching you squirm” he bit his lower lip in a weird mixture of sardonic seduction for a better effect and chuckled when Marik scowled.

The guitarist found that dark look irresistible, he knew the artist was trying to make his very best on every single sketch, his almost pathological perfectionism was giving the musician full attention and that’s exactly what he wanted, intrigue the other, enter his head, all that while gaining an exciting artwork.

Marik slid a hand on his golden hair, growing exasperated, that dragon phallus was giving him real trouble, he paced, focusing and watching Bakura’s back and shoulders over and over again, he made the other flex his arms inwards, outwards, up, down, he needed to make those wings look elastic and capable of looking good in any perspective; he moved himself sometimes the white strands out of the way, even brushing the skin sometimes, watching the hypnotic movement of the shoulder blades sinking and protruding and watching discreet muscles under the skin flexing, he blew a bit under his nose when he noticed he was staring too much and stepped back.

 “I’m getting a break, it’s better to leave and come back when the graphics in the table start making no sense” the Egyptian strode towards a small fridge “Come here”

Marik made a sign with the hand, and in Bakura’s head it look way too suggestive, he fantasized for a second how the Egyptian was pulling him roughly and throwing him to the wall and see those clear eyes watching his naked torso hungrily with the promise of violent passion coming, lips parted coming closer to his…

“… I don’t know why my brother keeps buying this shit, the sugar content is high up to the sky” the musician snapped out of it into a disappointing reality where the tattoo artist was more interested in the table of nutrition in the label of some foreign drink with an impossibly artificial brilliant color instead of him

“Ugh… I don’t care, give me one” Marik passed the drink with a disgusted face, rummaging the mess of bottles to pull a natural water.

Bakura snapped the bottle’s cap and snarled “You’re a fucking princess, you know that? I bet you wake up early, live in the gym and eat only supplements and grass” he mumbled.

 “I take care of my body, exactly the opposite to your kind”

“My kind?”

Marik nodded as if it was obvious “Rockstars”

The white haired took a glop of the drink with big Arabic letters “I’m sorry I don’t commune with your organic, lactose free, gluten-free, fruitarian lifestyle”

The tattoo artist snickered “I’m just vegetarian”

“You’re a sad person, Marik, and your skin looks anemic to me”

“Does not! I am healthy and strong, you though, you look like you could collapse on the stage at any minute”

“Does to! You are going to become a rabbit and I am not sick looking, I’m naturally white and thin, it’s not my fault my mother was Japanese and you look like you come from a fucking Egyptian gods dynasty without the animal heads or some shit!”

“You’re the one that looks like a bunny with that hair, I don’t know who told you it looks tough with those bat wing spikes, but I’ll take that compliment on my godly looks, Japanese twig”

“Fuck off, Marik”

The blond just walked towards him, with the smuggest look on his face, and a very intense stare, by the looks of it, for a minute the guitarist thought he was going to make all his dirty fantasies reality at last, but the other just passed close to him whispering “Make me”, the guitarist gritted his teeth, the asshole knew what he provoked in others and he loved exploiting it.

The Egyptian leaned on the table and wrapped his pencil, noticing the indentations he made with his teeth all this time, was that anxiety coming back? He stretched his neck, the trapezius muscles stung, a common thing on his job, he was about to resume his work when he felt cool fingers rubbing the area.

“Are you so turned on by the idea of the Egyptian god that you couldn’t resist touching me?”

“Don’t be an ass, you’re tense, I can tell, and you very well know how good my fingers are”

The blond was about to slap the guitarist hands away but he couldn’t deny that his nimble thumbs were massaging all the right places to bring sweet relief to the soreness.

“By the way you hit that poor guitar I can tell they’re not gentle”

A dangerous smirk “Oh but you and I are not for gentleness and being delicate, do we?”

“I swear of god Bakura, if you’re turning this into something weird I’m going to tattoo a big “Fuck you” at your back”

“Promises, promises”

The Egyptian enjoyed the soft massage with eyes shut closed, feeling the knots loose little by little, he dozed off, losing the sense of time for a moment until a quick knock made him open an eye.

A black haired girl with a very obvious Marik tattoo on her abdomen, visible under the crop top “I’m sorry… Am I intruding?”

The guitarist frowned “As a matter of fact…”

“Not at all, what can I do for you?” the artist stood up and walked towards her, the white haired crossed his arms with indignation.

“ Miss Ishizu told me to come in, I was just going to ask you about the change of schedule of this week…”

Marik talked to the woman with words and smiles that could come from an educated gentleman, the musician watched the interchange with disdain.

A finger combing a strand of hair, a shy smile, from the outside it looked like Marik was flirting, but his eyes were devoid of emotion, he was just… Manipulating her, the white haired bit the inside of his cheek considering from afar how many times he could have been tricked by it.

“It’s pathetic that display you put up with everybody except me, what is that feigned chivalry act about?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you and this is the real me”

“Maybe you just like me better” Bakura offered.

“Wipe that thought off your thick head” it sounded like a threat, the white haired grinned satisfied “The real you my ass” the other didn’t say a word and kept working.

 After an hour of sketching he lifted one of the sketches “I think this is it”

Bakura sighed satisfied “We’re set for the next step”

“9 AM”

“What? Isn’t that like sunrise?”

“You’ve never seen a sunrise, right?”

“Several times actually, when I go to bed”

“You’re fucking impossible, I want you here at 9 AM, you better be here after all the trouble you’ve caused me”

The guitarist’s naughty tongue licked his upper lip “If you want me at 9 AM you _have_ me at 9 AM”

The tattoo artist rolled his eyes for the 30th time that day.


	3. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking my time, aren't I? I've had so much work it's getting ridiculous.

It was too early for this; Bakura blinked trying to get rid of the discomfort in his tired eyes while waiting for Marik, the artist had took a few moments to prepare his supplies in the metal mobile table. He had expertly mounted the machine and was currently washing his hands vigorously “I can tell you’re not a morning person.”

Bakura gave a lazy snarl of disgust “Oh man, what gave it away?”

“Your pitiful look of course.”

“And here I thought we would all look like models every hour of the day like you.” Bakura spat, he was baffled and bitter since he observed Marik’s skin looked so fresh in the morning.

“I know nobody looks like me at any hour of the day.” Marik winked.

There was the twitch in the eye… Bakura rubbed the area.

Marik stepped close to where Bakura was sitting and wiped the upper back with a pad dipped in green soap, the circular movements made Bakura purr in delight.

“Someone’s in a better mood than two minutes ago.” Marik pointed out.

“Let me be, it’s early and I deserve a back rub after the one I gave you.”

“I’m just cleaning you.”

“You can’t let me enjoy anything.” Bakura complained.

After Marik wiped all the area where the tattoo was and a little farther than that, he started shaking the bottle of Stencil solvent, with strong up and down motions. Bakura watched intently.

“I’ll never get tired of watching you doing that”             

“Pervert…”

Marik spread the liquid of the bottle all over Bakura’s back and frowned, noticing how indeed sexual it all looked from Bakura’s point of view, but he couldn’t let that get to him…

“Raise your arms and don’t make a move or you will ruin everything.”

Bakura did as told. Marik put the rubber black gloves on and placed the stencil with utmost care, smoothing it to Bakura’s skin, making sure no bubbles were left. After let the paper sit for a moment he peeled it off slowly. He finished some details with a red surgical pen, making sure everything was in place.

“Get yourself comfortable for the ride.”

Bakura let his leather clad legs sprawl on the flattened tattoo chair, he wasn’t going to fall asleep, but at least wanted to relax, especially with Marik’s hands on his back.

He was quiet, looking at Marik’s foot rhythmically tapping on the switch of the tattoo machine when he began to work. Bakura closed his eyes remembering the frowned face of Marik when he worked, with an absolute focus, as if nothing else in the world existed but his skin. Bakura half smiled imagining the way the artist scrunched his nose when a detail didn’t come up exactly as he wanted. Then he felt the gloved hand of Marik running on his spine and shivered.

Marik worked, his hand was precise as a surgeon, lettering was hard to do but the letters on the Ouija board were straight and fine. He wanted to match his previous work. No… He wanted to outperform his own tattoo.

“Letters are too fine; lines of the cock have to be even thinner.” Marik mumbled.

Bakura chuckled, understanding the meaning of his words, he wanted more detail for the new one, he wanted to outdo himself. 

Also he knew full well what the other needed, attention and admiration from other people, envy and awe. It didn’t matter how hard Marik wanted to hide it, no simulated poker face could disguise it from someone who was similar. Bakura could see Marik’s need as if it was a mirror.

When the needle passed through the thin skin of his vertebrae Bakura winced, he pressure was strong.

“Do me gently for fuck’s sake, are you trying to make it hurt more than it should?” Bakura whined in an overdramatic tone.

“I wouldn’t try to hurt someone who gets off on pain.”

Bakura’s head perked up when Marik lifted the machine “I am not turned on by pain, where the hell did you got that from?”

“The time I made the twin dolls on your side and hip you had an erection.”

“Whoah… That’s a strange way to tell me you were eyeing my crotch.”

“I wasn’t looking at it; it kept bumping on my elbow.”

“And you didn’t think it wasn’t because of the pain but your stupid arm rubbing on me?”

“You are a pervert if you got off with only my elbow.”

Bakura remembered that all too well, that taunting bone brushed exactly on his helmet and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack, and he was too pretty to die young.

“I am human Marik!”

“What are your shouts about this time?” A raspy voice sounded as Marik’s brother crossed the door.

Rishid took a look on the room, and strode around Bakura “This is looking quite nice Marik. Hey mop head.”

“Hello Mr. Clean.” Bakura shot back.

“Good thing you’re with your back at Marik this time, that way you won’t look like a dazed schoolgirl.”

“Fuck you Rishid, go make another boring rose with a dagger.”

Marik glared “You’re not being useful, brother.”

Rishid laughed kindly “Hey, not my fault your favorite muse looks at you like if you were DaVinci reborn.”

Both of them chanted in unison “Get out Rishid.”

The big guy smiled fondly, it was nice seeing Marik getting sort of along with someone, whatever that made him bond with this guy wasn’t incredibly ideal, but it was good enough to encourage it.

“Keep on working Marik, if you need wet paper towels to prevent him fainting I got some.”

Marik gritted his teeth “Thank you brother.”, then he huffed getting back to work. Call Bakura his favorite muse? As if, this guy caused him so much trouble, he always made him work extra.

He remembered every single insane idea Bakura had in the past.

“A metal dreamcatcher with an eye of providence on the middle.”

“A spectral dark castle in the middle of a foggy demonic mist and a red sky full of eyes.”

“A dark demonic elf monster with a semi-robotic armor, crab leg texture on her legs and half of a broken doll baby on her arms.”

“Three airy ghosts with skull faces and ethereal bodies coming out from a window, with a book, a mirror and a clock.”

“A metal armlet on a Ouija board spelling death in blue orbs of ghostly light with the alphabet, numbers, option yes and no and the phrase good bye at the bottom.”

“A demon overlord with huge horns, armadillo-like shoulder protectors, beard, a huge grin, skull chest armor and a wine glass full of blood.”

“A ghost with purple mane, a sword and a shield coming out of the bed of a terrified person.”

He could forget easily everyone’s requests, a dragon, a skull, a koi, a phrase, wings, but he never would forget Bakura’s. Gradually older art on that white body had been covered, and both Bakura’s arms were covered fully by his hand. He was kind of fond of all of those tattoos, and their pictures peppered the wall of his parlor. He sighed; maybe Bakura was his favorite muse after all.

“… being such a dick?”  Bakura’s voice broke his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I asked why is Rishid being such a dick?”

Marik chortled, feeling suddenly happier than before “Because you keep stroking my ego in front of everybody.”

“Oh I want to stroke your ego, alright; I want to rub your pride until it’s huge.”

“You’re nasty.”

“You make it so easy.”

 A playful voice sounded close to Bakura’s ear “You have no idea; I can make it SO easy.”

Bakura’s eyes flew open _Did Marik just made an innuendo as well?_ He thought, Bakura looked up and Marik wasn’t hiding his amused smirk. Bakura opened his mouth to say something but his phone buzzed, so he pressed the speaker to avoid interrupting Marik’s work.

“What do you want brother?” Bakura mumbled.

“I need you to pick some materials for me when you get back, please.”

“You do it, I’m busy.”

“I know, you’re at the Gravekeeper Tattoo Parlor, right? You were talking all morning about Marik and his awesome...”

“ALRIGHT! ENOUGH!” Bakura yelled “Send me the list so I can pick them up!” Now he was sure his brother did it on purpose, he knew Marik was with him and he was on speaker. Bakura clenched his jaw; he was so going to yell at his brother about it later.

“Okay bro! Thank you so much! See you later!” The call ended as quickly as it started.

Bakura frowned pressing the silence button on the cellphone “Brothers, am I right?”

“How’s Ryou? He makes craft dolls doesn’t he? It fits him well, being that cute and all.” Marik inquired while wiping the stencil to see the line work.

Bakura jerked his head upwards quickly and met Marik’s eye, his blood boiled. He didn’t know if it was the odd compliment to someone he often compared himself to, and he felt he could never reach. Or it was Marik hinting interest in his brother. Bakura always played the part of the  very protective older sibling and scared away girls that looked non-suitable. The idea of Marik and Ryou crossed his mind and it felt so unnatural. Marik looked at him, surprise apparent in his face and started to laugh.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Bakura scowled.

Marik got near enough Bakura could feel the scent of almonds in his hair.

“I’m laughing at you, stupid. Don’t look so wound up, I’m just saying he looks _cute_ , like a kid or a puppy.”

Bakura let go a sigh and leaned back on the chair, wanting the earth to split and swallow him. This session was causing him more conflict than usual.


End file.
